


a helping hand

by ofhobbitsandwomen (litvirg)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, practice relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6845692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litvirg/pseuds/ofhobbitsandwomen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy’s got a crush on Gina and wants to ask her out. Unfortunately he’s never dated anyone before, so he has no idea how to do it. Clarke offers to be his practice girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a helping hand

Bellamy Blake was perpetually single. 

He hadn’t even realized it until recently. It wasn’t something he’d ever talked about with anyone before.  _ Perpetually single _ was the kind of thing you said as a joke whenever you were in a romantic slump, not the kind of thing you actually told people if it was true. It had never even seemed like a big deal, had never even occurred to him that he’d even been single for, well, for forever, because he'd just never given it any thought. But suddenly, at Miller’s 26th birthday--he’d noticed it.

And it even wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in dating. He’d just...never had time. 

In high school he was working and taking care of Octavia. And then once she got old enough to go to college,  he was...well he was still working and taking care of Octavia, but she’d bullied him into taking a few classes himself too. 

It would have been weird bringing anybody home when he was the age all his friends started dating. Octavia was still in high school and there were chore charts stuck all around the apartment--which was of course, incredibly sexy, but he just didn’t want to have to explain to anyone what the situation was. 

And then it started feeling less and less important. He’d made out with people at his friends parties, and casual hook ups weren’t a huge deal--as long as they weren’t as his apartment--so he didn’t really feel like he was missing out on anything. 

But then, suddenly, all his friends were in serious relationships, and he was left at the head of the table whenever they grabbed dinner together, waiting for a chance to cut in on the conversation, waiting for a time three pairs of heads weren’t all ducked in toward each other. Waiting for a dinner where there weren’t three pairs of hands laced together under the table. 

Suddenly he realized his friends were growing up and settling down and he’d never even been somebody’s boyfriend.

“You have too,” Octavia insisted, brushing him off with a wave of her hand as she moved into her room to get ready for Raven’s birthday party. 

“When?” Bellamy challenged. 

“There was that girl Echo--”

He cut her off with a shake of his head. “Nope. Made out in the back room of the shop. Ran into her again at the mall. Made out in a dressing room. Next argument.”

Octavia popped her head out of the closet to roll her eyes at him. 

“Didn’t you and Miller once--”

“Make out at a party and never actually date? Yeah, good memory, O.”

He could practically see her eyes rolling into the back of her head through the walls. 

“You don’t have to be a dick about it,” she mumbled. He heard her rummaging through some drawers. “Why is it bothering you now anyway? Who cares if Miller and Monty are freakishly attached at the hip?”

“ _ And _ Raven and Wells  _ and  _ Monroe and Harper  _ and _ you and Lincoln.” He flopped back down onto his back, a red flush creeping up his neck. “It’s not bothering me,” he huffed, convincingly. “It’s just time for a change you know? Might as well give something new a try.”

He heard a soft hum from the closet. She rooted around back there for a minute or so more before coming out, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared down at him. 

“Your plan is still stupid though,” she said. 

He turned his face into the pillow, the heat of his cheeks burning against the fabric. 

“Gee, thanks for the support, sis.”

“It’s going to go terribly wrong, your plans always do,” she called over her shoulder as she left him there, face down on her bed. “I don’t want the blame trickling over to me.”

Yeah, he thought. Good call. 

*** 

It wasn’t a ridiculous plan. 

There was this girl, Gina, who went to the same cafe for lunch that he did twice a week. She always had a book and it was always something he’s read before and eventually they’d just started talking about it. 

Turned out she was cute and smart and sweet and sharp as hell. And he hadn’t even made out with her in a public bathroom yet. 

And he wanted to ask her out. Like, ask her out ask her out. Because he was back to the sixth grade, doodling heart in his notebook and it was getting a little disgusting for someone his age. 

But, unfortunately, due to the whole perpetually single thing he was working with, he had  _ absolutely no idea _ how to do that. And even if he managed it, he’s have no idea what to do on a date. What did people talk about on dates? Where did they go? 

He tried to imagine himself dressed up, jacket and tie and all, pulling out a chair for her at some fancy restaurant while a waiter in a tux poured them both a bottle of red wine and then suddenly his mind went blank. That’s all he had on dating. And he was pretty sure he’d picked it up from  _ Gilmore Girls _ back when Octavia was obsessed with it. 

That’s it. He was Luke. Perpetual hermit who didn’t believe in dating. 

Perfect. 

“You just need practice,” Raven had told him. “Once you go out on the first few dates you start to get the feel for things. It’s not that bad.”

Bellamy groaned. 

“So I have to humiliate myself on the first few dates, making everyone, including Gina, uncomfortable, and just hope she wants to keep going on the excruciatingly awkward dates until it gets better?”

Raven snorted. 

“You used the phrase ‘excruciatingly awkward” not me,” she said. “Maybe experience isn’t your problem.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“No one cares if you’ve dated or not, Blake. You just need some confidence.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes at that. “I don’t need confidence,” he said. “I’m great.”

“Convincing.”

He nibbled at the chips she’d brought out as soon as he’d walked through the door. He didn’t love the idea of his first date, well, ever, being with Gina, watching them both squirm as they tried to figure out what the hell they were doing. But maybe Raven had a point about the practice thing. He just needed someone else to practice with. 

“Okay,” he said. “I think you might be right.”

“Of course I’m right,” she snorted without even looking up at him. 

“I need a practice girlfriend,” he said. “Or boyfriend. Though I think girlfriend, since I’m interested in actually dating a girl this time. How different is it really?”

She choked on the water she’d been sipping, her face going bright red as she coughed, pounding on her chest, her eyes wide and confused as they bored into him. 

“Excuse me?” she sputtered.

He stood up, brushing the crumbs off of his lap. He grabbed his coat from the hook by the door and started pulling it on. Raven was twisted around on the couch, watching him with a horrified expression. 

“I need practice,” he said simply. “If I don’t want my first date with Gina to be a disaster. Thanks for your help.”

“That’s not at all what I meant, dumbass!” he heard her shout at him as he waved goodbye and slipped out of her apartment. 

He didn’t really know anyone outside his incestuos group of friends, but Octavia probably knew someone who could help him out. He didn’t mind being a charity case, just this once. 

***

“Alright,” Octavia said. “There’s a few people here who could work for your ridiculous, middle school level scheme.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. 

“Try and keep the condescension out of your voice when you introduce me to people, please, O.”

Octavia grabbed his arm and dragged him through the door to Raven’s kitchen. Wells gave him a friendly nod as they passed by and he grabbed one of the beers from the cooler on the counter. His eyes wandered around the room, finding  mostly familiar faces surrounding him. 

“I think Roma’s your best bet,” Octavia said, snapping his attention back to her. 

“Who?”

“Roma.” Octavia nodded her head to her left. A tall, brunette girl stood by the door to the kitchen, talking with Monroe. She was pretty, laughing at whatever Monroe was saying. 

“She was my RA freshman year. She’s used to the pathetic coming to her with their problems.”

Bellamy stuck his tongue out at his younger sister. 

“Okay,” Octavia said, sobering. ‘She’s actually really cool. She’s super nice and even likes history and all the weird crap you're into. I’m surprised I didn’t introduce you sooner, honestly.”

Bellamy watched her from where he stood with Octavia. She did look like his type. A blush crept onto his cheeks when he thought about walking over to this pretty girl and explaining exactly what it was he was about to ask for, but he’d come this far, it’d be a waste not to even try. 

Roma glanced over at them and Bellamy ducked his head. He saw Octavia lift her hand and wave to Roma, gesturing  her over. 

“Alright, big brother,” she said, elbowing him. “Game time.”

***

Octavia had been right. Roma was incredibly cool. 

And after the glowing introduction Octavia had given-- _ this is my brother, Bellamy. He’s impressively socially inept but I think you guys might actually get along _ \--there really had been nowhere to go but up. 

Roma, gracefully, had laughed off Octavia and reached her hand out to shake Bellamy’s, wisely leaving her introduction to herself. Octavia had only shrugged, grabbing her drink from beside her and hopping off the counter with a _ have fun you two _ , before walking off to find Lincoln. 

Roma was a grad student, anthropology, working at Lincoln’s bar part time. She liked hiking and rock climbing and was way rougher than he was, but she’d seen all the same documentaries he always made Octavia watch with him, and he was surprised at just how easy it was to jump into conversation with her, and how easy it was getting stuck there all night. 

He felt his neck flush as she rested her hand on his shoulder, laughing at something he’d just said. They’d found themselves squared off in some corner, everyone else trickling in and out around them the whole night. 

Maybe dating wasn’t so hard. 

“Look,” he said, gathering up the nerve. “I have something sort of weird to ask you.”

Roma just raised her eyebrows. Her smile still stuck on her face, she took her hand back. 

“Alright,” she laughed. “Shoot.”

“I kind of need some practice--going on dates and stuff,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “I’ve never really done it before, because, well a lot of different reasons honestly, it doesn’t matter. And there’s this girl, and I really want to ask her out, but I don’t want it to be a total disaster just because I’ve never actually dated anyone. And I thought maybe if I could find someone I was comfortable with, I could, sort of, practice?”

“And I’m the one you want to practice with,” Roma said, tone unreadable. 

“I know it’s weird, and pathetic or whatever--” he started, but Roma cut him off. 

“Not quite the word I would have chosen.” She sighed, running her hands through her hair. “Look, you seem really sweet. And maybe if you had told me upfront what you were looking for I would have agreed to help you, before I spent all night flirting with you, but this--it’s just too weird now. Sorry, Bellamy.” 

“Oh,” he said. “Right, yeah. My bad.” She looked like she was going to say something else, but he had no interest in prolonging this conversation any longer. “Sorry for taking up most of your night.”

***

He was on the steps outside Raven’s, smoking one of his shame cigarettes, when he heard footsteps behind him. 

He shook his head. “Really not in the mood, O.”

“Not Octavia,” someone said as she plopped beside him. He glanced over at her. She was smiling, blonde hair pulled into a bun on the top of her head, holding her hand out for him to shake. “Clarke.”

He took her hand. “Bellamy.”

She nodded, settling in, leaning back on her hands before she spoke again. She tilted her chin toward the cigarette between his fingers. “Those things will kill you, you know.”

He took a long drag on it. 

“Gee thanks, doctor. Got any more groundbreaking information for me?”

She just shrugged. She rummaged in her pocket and pulled out a packer herself. 

“Got a light?”

He raised his eyebrows at her. 

“It’s been a long week,” she said. He reached in his pocket for his lighter but didn’t hand it over right away. “My dad smoked growing up. Not like habitually or anything. Just stress relief once in awhile when things got too bad. Sort of inherited that I guess.”

He nodded, handing the lighter over. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I can understand that.”

They sat in silence for a bit, watching the smoke waft and dance and fade in front of them. It was nice, even though they weren’t talking. Octavia always gave him crap about never quitting, and none of his other friends smoked. It was nice to have someone sit with him. 

“So,” Clarke said, breaking the silence. “How’s it possible that even after successfully flirting with Roma all night, she still winds up going home with someone else and you’re out here alone?”

“Technically,” he said. “I’m not alone.”

She rolled her eyes, waiting for a real answer. 

“I guess I wasn’t exactly...upfront about what I wanted.”

She barked out a laugh. “Are guys ever upfront about what they want?”

He laughed. Her smile was warm and welcoming and not judging at all. He knew it was stupid but he felt the words itching his tongue, about to fall off and tell her the whole embarrassing story. No doubt to watch the second girl of the night tell him how ridiculous it was, before walking away from him. 

“Yeah well,” he said, anyway. “Turns out you should really let girls know upfront that you’re looking for a practice girlfriend.”

He heard a cough from his left, and turned to see Clarke knocking a fist on her chest, the cigarette dangling from two fingers on her other hand. 

“A practice girlfriend?” she asked once she’d regained her breath. 

“That seems to be the general reaction, yeah,” he said. 

“What the hell is a practice girlfriend?”

A wave of heat washed over his face and he was grateful for the cover the night sky was giving him. 

“There’s this girl I want to ask out,” he said quickly. “But I’ve never dated anyone before, and I don’t really know how to do it.”

“Do what?” she asked. “ _ It _ ?” 

She gestured vaguely at his crotch and he reached a hand out to swat her away. 

“No, you perv,” he said laughing. “Dating. I don’t know how to date.”

“Oh,” she said. She had a thoughtful expression on her face. “That’s actually really sweet.”

“Yeah, well,” he said. “It was a stupid plan and it didn’t work.” 

He went back to smoking, nearly ready to reach for another cigarette. He leaned his back against the railing of the stairs and tilted his head up to search for stars in the cloudy night sky. It was another moment before Clarke spoke again. 

“I’ll do it,” she said, surprising him. His head knocked painfully into the railing as he jolted up. 

“What?”

Clarke shrugged again, looking him over. She took a drag of her cigarette, and pulled her phone out of her pocket, handing it over to him. 

“I think it’s cute you’re trying this hard for this girl,” she said. “And dating can suck. I wish I’d had practice before I got out there.”

He stared down at the phone in his hands.

“Put your number in there,” she said, slowly. “And I’ll text you mine.”

His fingers worked automatically, plugging his number into her contacts without thinking about what was really going on. 

“Are you serious?”

“Would you have been this difficult if Roma had said yes?”

He smirked. “Probably. Should at least know what you’re getting yourself into.”

She smiled at him as she took her phone back. He watched as she flicked through her contacts until she found his name, then pulled up a new message. He felt his pocket buzz a moment later. 

“I think I’ll be fine,” she said standing up. “Let me know when you want our first practice date to be.”

***

It was a few days before Bellamy decided to call Clarke. 

He’d thought about it every day since she’d given him her number. And he’d already seen Gina twice since then so he was definitely ready to get moving. But part of him was still in shock that he actually found someone to agree to the whole thing. 

Another part of him felt far, far too embarassed to even cash in this favor--no matter the fact that she’d offered. Dating couldn’t be that hard, he tried to tell himself. Maybe he should just go for it with Gina, tell her up front he’d never dated anyone and hope she’d want to stick around past the trainwreck that would no doubt be the first date. 

But then he’d opened his mouth to ask her out, and all that came out was, 

“Would you mind watching my stuff while I run to the bathroom?” 

And then he’d run to the bathroom and pulled out his phone. 

It barely rang once before there was a voice on the other side. 

“I was wondering if you were ever going to call,” Clarke said in lieu of a greeting. “You know you don’t have to be nervous about asking someone out on a fake date, right?”

“Not fake,” he whispered. “Practice.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“I’m...sort of in a public bathroom.”

“Mm,” she said. “I’m not gonna make you explain that one, actually.”

He laughed, grateful. He wondered if he actually had to ask her or if what he was calling to say was just sort of assumed. 

“So,” he said, slowly, when she didn’t seem to want to say anything more. “Are you free tonight?”

“Sure,” she said. “Though, I might suggest that when you  _ actually _ ask that girl out, you give her a couple days notice. That way she won’t feel like she’s subbing in for someone who cancelled.”

“Shit,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean--I just kind of want to get started with--”

She cut him off with a low chuckle. He felt a warm reassurance spread in his belly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I know you’re totally inept at all this and in desperate need of a socializing tutor. You’ll learn soon.”

“Have you been talking to my sister?” 

“Are you picking me up or are we meeting somewhere?” she asked, breezing past his question. 

He hadn’t even thought about that. Somehow his brain had skipped right over to the actual date part that he forgot about the getting to the date. 

“I’ll um...I’ll pick you up.”

“Cool,” she said. She didn’t sound like she cared either way. “I’ll text you my address. Seven okay for you?”

“Seven sounds great,” he said.

“Cool. See you then, Bellamy.”

***

There was a shout from behind the door when he knocked.  _ Just a minute _ , came muffled through the door and he heard her running around grabbing keys and shoes and probably a coat. He sagged in relief, happy to have a moment to himself as he took in the reality of his life. 

She stopped as she pulled the door open, taking him in. When her eyes snapped back up to his, she was smiling.

“You look nice,” she said. She gestured to the flowers in his hand. “Those for me?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said. He pulled at his tie which had felt too tight since he’d put in on. “I wasn’t sure if it was a good move, but, uh, yeah, here--”

“Very good move,” she said, nodding. She took them from his hands and waved him in. “I’m gonna find a vase for them quick before we get going. Make yourself comfortable, this may take a while.”

“Don’t buy flowers too often?”

He wandered over to the couch, taking in the living room. It was messy. Like, incredibly messy. There was a small bookcase off on the right wall that was cluttered with knick knacks on the shelf, and four stacks of books on the top of it.  The TV stand was littered with mugs, and the couch where he’d been about to sit was hidden under piles of laundry. And a laundry basket. He settled on the arm instead. 

“Don’t get flowers too often,” she said. She popped her head out of the doorway. “I have kind of a history of dating assholes.”

“Ah,” he said. 

He heard her rummaging through some cupboards before a muffled  _ A-ha! _ And a moment later, she was back in front of him. 

“Okay,” she said. She brushed her hands against her thighs and he looked at her, really look at her, for the first time. She looked nice. Great. Casual in a black top and jeans, but put together. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he nodded,eyes  snapping back to her face. “You look great, by the way. Probably should have said that before.”

“Nah,” she shook her head. “Flowers were enough to hold me over until now. Nice touch, by the way. Didn’t even have to tell you to do that.”

“I’m not  _ totally _ socially inept,” he smiled. 

“Just mostly,” she said.

“Right. Just mostly.” 

*** 

His plan had been dinner and a movie.  _ The classic _ , Miller had said when he told him. A staple of every romantic comedy he’d ever seen. Foolproof. He’d thought. 

Clarke wrinkled her nose at it. 

“What?” he asked. “It’s the classic date.”

“No, no, it’s nice,” she said. “But it’s just...not great first date material.” He must have looked unconvinced, because she took his hand and kept talking. “It’s the kind of thing you do with someone when you’re comfortable with them already, you know? That way, in case it’s getting close to time to leave for the movie you don’t have to worry about coming off to aggressive or impatient or anything if you point out the time.”

“Yeah, okay, but--”

“And then the movie itself,” she continued, ignoring him. “Great idea, but a first date is about getting to know someone to see if you want to go on a second, right?” She waited for his nod, which he gave reluctantly. She smiled at the roll of his eyes, elbowing him in the ribs before continuing. “Can’t really get to know anyone in a movie. Since you’re not supposed to talk and all.”

“Somehow I doubt that stops you,” he teased. 

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see won’t you?” She smiled over at him, cheeks high and red. He felt a warm wave wash over him at the sight and he tried to remember the last time talking to someone new was this easy. 

“I thought it was a terrible plan?”

“Well,” she said slowly, pulling him by the hand to catch up with her. “That’s the point right? Get all your terrible plans out of the way so you are actually good at all this when you final take out--what’s her name? You never told me.”

“Gina,” he said. And suddenly the nerves were fluttering around his stomach again, pressing down like dead weight. 

“Right,” she said, still smiling. “Gina. Gotta get all the crappy dates out of the way with me, so you actually have something good for Gina.”

He nodded, dragging behind her again. 

“Come on,” she said, tugging at his hand. “Hurry up or we’ll be late for the movie.”

***

Bellamy’s stomach was growling. The smell of popcorn was all around them, and he was pulling Clarke with him toward the concession line. 

“How are you hungry right now?” she asked. “You just had a steak.”

“No,” he said pointedly. “I had half a steak. You stole the other half.”

Clarke shrugged and started digging through her purse before pulling her wallet out. She reached in and handed over a few crumpled bills, shoving them in his hand when he wouldn’t take them. 

“Here,” she said. “You paid for dinner and the tickets.”

“Is this a test?” he asked. “I’m supposed to insist on paying right? Never let a girl pay on the first date?”

“That restaurant was really expensive, and you bought the tickets online beforehand so I couldn’t even offer,” she said shaking her head. “This isn’t a test this is me being nice. Take the money. Buy me some skittles.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Clarke chose seats all the way in the back corner of the theater. 

“Bet this is where you take all your dates,” Bellamy said. “Right to the back to make out.” 

“Not all the dates,” she faux-whispered. “Just the fake ones.”

“Not fake.  _ Practice _ .”

Clarke rolled her eyes and plopped down in the seat, patting her hand for him to sit beside her. It was one of those movie theaters with the new chairs, that reclined, the ones that made you wish you brought a pillow and a blanket. 

“So,” she said. “What’s your movie move?”

“Sorry?” he asked. 

“Your movie move. These chair kind of eliminate the whole yawning-to-drape-an-arm-across-your-shoulders thing, but there’s always hand holding.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well just, honestly, we both got food so I guess I’d wait until we weren’t eating it anymore. Not super sexy to lift linked hands full of popcorn up to your mouth.”

“I don’t know. I think it’s incredibly sexy.” She winked. “Good call though. Really, you’re not actually terrible at this.”

“Going to see movies?”

“This,” she gestured between them. “Dating.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged. “We’ll see.”

***

He’d been right. Clarke talked through the whole movie. 

“So that’s why you picked the back row.” He poked her with his elbow playfully. “All the way in the corner where we wouldn’t bother anyone.”

“What?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “You don’t even realize you’re  _ that guy _ .”

“No I’m not,” she insited. “Whatever. Shut  _ up _ .”

She knocked into him, her hand still in his. The air felt cool against his face and he thought, despite what she said, that it all went pretty well. No one had to rush through dinner and they didn’t waste time with awkward questions about family because they’d actually had enough in common to keep talking without having to search for anything new. 

She was funny as hell throughout the movie, a snappy running commentary at his ear the whole time, and he was glad she’d picked the back. She slipped her hand into his halfway through the movie, and apart from when they’d gotten up to throw away their garbage and leave the theater, she hadn’t let go since. 

“No, no,” he said. “It was fun. Very cool.”

She smiled up at him as she shrugged but she could see a flush working up her neck. 

“So,” she said, stopping in front of her apartment. “What are our parameters?”

“Parameters?”

“Am I inviting you up?”

_ Oh _ , he thought. Right. 

“Um, well--”

“I don’t have to,” she said. “I mean, at some point when you start dating someone new, you should invite them up to your place. If you want to, I mean. It’s all...you know. Part of it. I didn’t know how many dating things you wanted to hit on the first date so I just thought I’d offer.”

“Yeah, um, well…” Suddenly his throat felt tight and there was a lump he couldn’t explain. He ducked his head down to avoid her eye. 

“Not tonight,” he decided. 

“Okay,” she smiled softly. She pressed herself up on her toes and gave his cheek a kiss. “Call me then?”

He nodded. She stared at him a moment longer, reading him, and he wondered what she was looking for. 

Just as she turned to walk up the stairs though, his grip on her hand tightened and he pulled her into him before he could think about what he was doing. 

And before she could ask, he was dipping his head down and pressing his lips to hers, one hand reaching up and tangling in her hair, softly pressing her forward into him, while the other wrapped around her back to life her up the slightest bit so he didn’t have to lean down so far. 

Her cheeks were pink and warm when he pulled away.

“Sorry, I--just--”

“No,” she said. She bit her lip, pressing a smile down. “Good instinct. Good way to end the date.”

She glanced away from him, the smile still tucked away in her cheek and she seemed to nod to herself a few times before glancing back over at him. 

“Right,” she said, bubblier than before. “So. Call me?”

A laugh slipped from his lips as he nodded, watching her walk backwards toward the steps of her building. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Night, Clarke.”

“Night, Bellamy.”

He watched as she waved and turned, slipping into her building before he could ask himself what the fuck he was thinking. 

*** 

They went on three more dates that ended just like that. Once to a museum, once to the zoo, and once just out for coffee. They all ended with her asking if she should ask him up, and they all ended with him saying no, before pulling her in for a kiss. 

It wasn’t what he was used to. He was used to flirting, a bit, a couple drinks usually, and then an awkward make out and grope in a semi-public place. He was used to meeting people at bars, not talking a lot and then going back to their apartment and slipping out before morning. 

He wasn’t used to dates. 

And he wasn’t used to dates that were supposed to be going horribly, and turned out fine. Even the apparently terrible idea for the first date had been great in the end. She liked all his ideas. 

“Okay,” he’d said. “But what are good date ideas.”

Clarke shrugged. “These are good dates. I’m having fun. That’s the point right? Are you having fun?”

Yes, he’d thought. He was having fun. It was easy with Clarke. She never tiptoed around what she was thinking and she didn’t have any problem disagreeing with him, and she never seemed to act like she was trying to impress anyone. It was so incredibly genuine that it was hard for him to wrap his mind around that fact that it was all fake. 

Well. Not fake. Practice. But still. 

And then he’d walk her home and she’d ask if she should ask him to come up and suddenly he’d have a vision of himself creeping out of her bed in the morning, or her rushing him out and it being all the same as it always was. 

And he didn’t want that. 

For Gina, he reminded himself. He didn’t want that because he needed to know how to do it all. The dates, the texting, the being invited up, and being invited to stay for breakfast the next day. The whole thing, he needed to know all of it. So he kept putting it off.

He was just walking through the door of his apartment when his phone rang. He glanced down at it and saw the picture Clarke took at the zoo, a selfie with one of the penguins, and smiled. 

“Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Is this a bad time?” she asked. “You sound out of breath.”

“Just woefully out of shape. I ran up the stairs instead of taking the elevator today. What’s up?”

There was a pause, then a sigh, before she spoke again. 

“I know I’m your fake girlfriend or whatever--”

“ _ Practice _ . Not fake.”

She snorted.

“--So it might not be super cool for me to ask this, but. Do you want to just like, hang out tonight? Watch some netflix or something? It’s been kind of a long week.”

“Why would it not be cool for a girlfriend to ask to go over to the boyfriend’s house?”

She sighed. Bellamy could see the side eye she was giving him through the phone. 

“Well, you haven’t wanted me to invite you up yet, so I don’t. I figured you’d invite me over when you wanted to, but you haven’t yet, and I kind of just want to sprawl out on a couch with someone and watch some mind numbingly dull documentary and not think about it all.”

“Hey,” he protested. “None of the documentaries I watch are mind numbingly dull.” 

“Yeah, right, sure,” she said. “My bad.” There was a heavy pause. “So?”

“Oh right, yeah.” He spun around trying to gather things from around his living room, tidying it up a bit. Frantically, so he was sure to miss something but, well. He’d seen her apartment so he wasn’t terribly worried. “I’m just gonna hop in the shower but that shouldn’t take too long. I should be out before you get here.”

“Okay,” she said. “See you soon then.”

He’d barely hopped out of the shower and pulled a pair of sweatpants when he heard a knock on his door. He grabbed a shirt from the drawer, kicking it shut as he shuffled over to the door, tugging it on as he went. 

“Hey,” he said, pulling the door open. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know,” Clarke said, shrugging. “Fabulous.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a quick hug before gesturing her into the living room. He caught a whiff of smoke, clinging to the fabric of her sweatshirt. 

“Want a drink?” he said, pulling back.

“That, actually, would be incredible.” 

He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “I’ll go grab us something.”

She was sprawled out on the couch when he came back, two beers in hand. He sat at the end with her feet, handing the beer over to her and lifting her legs to rest them on his lap. She murmured a soft,  _ thanks, _ and tossed the remote over to him, settling further into the pillows. 

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked, flipping through Netflix. 

She sighed, taking a sip of her beer. Her eyes wandered over to him, looking him up and down, contemplating for just a moment before she shrugged and shook her head. 

“Nothing really to talk about,” she said. “Just normal shitty work stuff.”

He nodded. When he settled on a movie he glanced over at her. 

“This mind numbingly dull enough for you?”

She nodded, poking at him with her toes. “Perfect.”

***

“You’re not bad at this,” Clarke said in the middle of their second movie. Her feet were still piled in his lap and his hands had slowly worked their way up, rubbing her feet then her calves, and she was slunk low down in the pillows. 

“At what?” he asked, grinning softly over at her.  

“All this boyfriend stuff,” she said. Her face was red and she wasn’t quite meeting his eye, but her tone was full, and strong. Confident. “I know you’re not  _ actually _ my boyfriend,” she hurried to say. “But you---you seem to be pretty naturally good at all of it. Not sure you actually need any practice.”

“Yeah, well,” he said. He couldn’t explain it. Any time he’d ever thought of asking Gina out, he’d freeze. And he’d think of how long they’d be sitting in silence at dinner or out for coffee, walking awkwardly quiet through a park. It was...work. Fun, and he liked it. But it was work. 

It wasn’t like that with Clarke. 

“Your expectations were low,” he said. “I don’t have to worry about trying to impress you.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed. One of her feet shifted, squishing between his legs. “So is this your big move then? How you’re gonna get Gina into your apartment? Netflix and chill?”

He barked out a laugh. 

“ _ You’re _ the one who suggested Netflix.”

“Hey, Netflix and chill is kind of a staple of dating.” Clarke poked at him with the foot still resting on top of his leg. “I’m just holding up my end of the deal.”

_ What was my end _ , Bellamy wanted to say, but he glanced over at Clarke, smiling at him, her face red and open and teasing, and he held his tongue. She poked her toes into his side, making him squirm but she kept at it, laughing and reaching forward to pull herself up. 

“Wow,” she said. “Would not have pegged you for the ticklish type.”

“Is there really a type for that?” 

Before she had a chance to answer, he grabbed her leg, pulling her forward. 

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, struggling to pull herself up before his hands reached out for her. He shook his head, grinning down at her while he reached his hands out, his fingers brushing her sides lightly. “No, Bellamy--” she was cut off, his hands working into her sides, a giggle bursting from her mouth. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he said. 

“Think it might be too late for that,” she said, breathless. 

A fog had covered his thoughts, all at once, and, unaware that it was even happening, he forgot. Forgot who they were and what they were, and what Clarke, smiling and laughing and touching below him, was doing there on his couch. 

He let himself forget for just a moment that it was all fake, practice. That she was there, sitting with him, watching movies with him, grabbing his hands as they inched toward her, all just for pretend. That she was just waiting until he gave the word for it all to be over, to get on with whatever her life was when she wasn’t twisting herself and his feelings in intricate knots, as a favor to him. 

It all slipped out of his mind as her hands, warm and soft, wrapped around his wrists as his fingers dug into her sides, and she pulled them up and away from her sides, patting them onto her ribs as their faces drew closer together, and his lips brushed against hers. 

It was a few moments before he pulled away, stuck to her without thinking about why, and when he did pull away his head was spinning. He felt his cheeks heat, partly from the way she was looking at him, her lips red, one pulled between her teeth, and partly from the whole situation sinking in around him. 

“Well, that was…” he trailed off. 

“Good practice?” she offered. 

“Yeah,” he laughed, his head dropping down on her shoulder. A slow breath slipped from his lips as the words spun around in his head and he tried to figure out what to make of them.  _ Good practice, good practice, good practice _ . He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be feeling, but before he could say anything he heard Clarke whisper, slowly. 

“It’s, uh, all part of dating right?” Her voice was low, and scratchy. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, right. It’s all...part of it.”

It was another moment before the silence broke. A moment of his hand, resting at the back of her neck, playing with the strands of hair sitting loose at the base of her neck. And her hand, tangled in his shirt pulling him the tiniest bit closer. 

“I don’t want to…” she trailed off unsure. He watched as she shook her head, gathering her resolve before chancing a look back up to him, steely eyes meeting his. “This was probably always going to be part of it right? It’s not like...if we were dating this would just be part of it. And that’s what we’re here to practice right?” 

She was shifting, pushing him back so she could slip a leg between his, one on the other side of his hip, pressing back down into the pillows instead of her. She waited before she leaned down again, until he nodded, and then she smiled, her hands working their way from his chest to the hem of her shirt which she pushed up slowly. 

Her hands against his bare stomach sent a wave a heat shooting through him, and all he could do was close his eyes. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, though he wasn’t sure either of them were really paying attention to the conversation anymore. “This was always going to be part of it.”

***

“We should go to breakfast,” Bellamy said the next morning. 

Clarke was pressed up against him, tangled in the sheet she’d stolen from him in the night, and he wasn’t sure if it was the sleepy smile or her hair falling messily around her face, disheveled in a way he wasn’t used to with her, that sent a sharp pang in his chest when he glanced over at her. 

She’d fallen asleep so quickly after everything the night before, her arms still wrapped around his waist as her face dipped between his shoulder and the pillow. And trying not to wonder what it was he’d gotten himself into, he pushed all doubts and hang ups out of his mind, and let himself sink into the mattress below him, feeling her warm breath trickle over his skin as he fell asleep. 

She was staring at him then, a dopey smile on her face as her chin rested on her shoulder/

“Yeah?” she asked. “Not even going to cook for your guest?”

“Nah.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead as he pushed himself off the mattress, finding the shirt he’d thrown on the ground at some point in the night, and pulling it on over his head. “Way too lazy for that. Also, I have no food here. So, unless you want to slowly starve to death, I’d suggest the diner around the corner.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, sitting up and letting the sheet fall from where it covered her chest to the dip in her hips. “Pancakes do sound good right now.”

“Exactly.”

He found her discarded shirt on the floor and tossed it over to her, before pulling a pair of pants on. 

“Plus Octavia has told me some horror stories about your cooking,” she teased, finding the rest of her clothes scattered near the foot of the bed. 

“She’s lying, I’m an excellent cook. She’s the one who burns everything.” He stopped, glancing over at her, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “You talk to Octavia about me?”

Clarke just rolled her eyes at that, but he could see a blush making its way up her neck as she jumped, pulling her jeans up over her hips. 

“Come on,” she groaned, all fake impatience. She grabbed his hand pulling him out of the bedroom. “I’m starving.”

It was only a few minutes from his apartment to the diner, and Clarke, tucked into his side without a thought, was quiet the whole way over. It was nice, walking, the sun high in the sky, the breeze cooling them as they went, to  _ be _ able to just be with someone in silence without feeling the need to fill it. 

It wasn’t until they got to the diner, the dull buzz of other people’s conversations and the smell of coffee in the air, that Clarke perked up. 

She was opening her mouth to say something, poking at his side when--

“Bellamy?”

Bellamy glanced up at the hostess stand, a familiar face smiling back at him. 

“Gina,” he said. “Hi. I didn’t know you worked here?”

She had a hand raised in a small wave, and her smile spread wide across her cheeks and yet, for some reason, he couldn’t get rid of the sinking feeling in his gut. 

He felt Clarke pull away, her fingers stretching out from where they’d been tangled with his, her head ducked down.

“Only on weekend,” Gina explained, motioning them toward her. “Just for a little extra cash.”

Bellamy nodded, letting his gaze slip away from Gina, trying to catch Clarke’s eye, but her stare was fixed on Gina. She had a small smile stuck in her cheeks and she was nodding, biting her lip. 

Gina glanced between the two of them and then back down to the chart in front of her. 

“Just the two of you, then?”

Clarke’s phone was in her hand when she started to speak. “Um, actually,” she said. She held her phone up, screen black, in explanation. “Raven just texted me. I forgot we had plans today, so I’m actually going to have to get a rain check on the pancakes.” She glanced at Gina once more. “Nice meeting you.”

“Oh, um, yeah--” Gina floundered, confused, but Bellamy wasn’t watching her. 

“Wait, Clarke,” he started. He felt the air press in around him a bit. “Raven will understand if you’re a little late.”

“No, no,” she shook her head. “It’s fine, just grab something without me, and we can get together some other time?” Her voice raised at the end, a question, but she didn’t stick around to hear the answer. She gave Gina one last wave, and nodded at Bellamy before she turned and left. 

“So,” Gina said awkwardly. “Just you then?” 

He watched Clarke’s figure walk down the road, away from the cafe. Her head was ducked down, glancing at her phone and only a moment later he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. 

**_Hey_ ** , she’d written.  **_You’re ready. Go for it with Gina._ **

“Yeah, uh,” he said. “Yeah, just me.”

***

It had been three days since he’d heard from Clarke.

Any time he’d call her, it’d go straight to voicemail. All his texts, checking in to see what she was up to, asking her if she wanted to get lunch were answered with what must have been the same message-- **_sorry, really busy, rain check though!_ ** \--copied and pasted into a new message. 

He’d asked Octavia about it, and she’d just shrugged and said, 

“Clarke’s weird, I don’t know. Just go talk to her.”

So there he was. Waiting, outside her apartment, coffee in hand. Like a stalker. 

He’d been there for the better part of an hour, and he’d just about decided to give up and try again another day, when she walked around the corner, spotting him. 

“Bellamy,” she said. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He held out the coffee, grimacing. “Sorry, it’s, uh, it’s probably cold now.”

She smiled. “It’s fine.”

“Can I just--” he stared, unsure of where it was going. “Can I come in?” She looked hesitant, like she wasn’t sure what he could be there for. “Just for a minute. I just...I need to talk to you.”

She sighed. 

“Yeah,” she said. She opened the door for him and stood off to the side. “Come on in.”

He walked in, smiling at the familiar mess in her living room, waiting as she toed off her shoes and hung her coat. She nodded toward the kitchen, so he followed her there, standing on front of her where she leaned against the counter. 

“How have you been?” he asked. “Haven’t heard from you since, well.”

“Look, Bellamy,” she started, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

She waited a moment and he could hear it hanging in the air. Whatever she was about to say, it was bad and he was going to leave, heartbroken, without having known it was his heart on the line until he’d seen her round that corner. He jumped in before she could do it. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “The other night, with us--you agreed to help me out and I took it to far.”

“No,” she shook her head. “That’s not--I like you. Okay? I liked you that first night, but I haven’t dated anyone in a while and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to and I thought this would be an easy way to--I don’t know, get you out of my system or something? Just explore a crush without really risking anything.” She shrugged, not meeting his eye. “It was stupid, and it was obviously a dumb plan, because  I still like you and--just--I can’t do the whole practice girlfriend thing. You should ask Gina out, or don’t, whatever, but I can’t be a part of it anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Clarke--” he started. 

“It’s fine, Bellamy, really.” Her hands dropped to her sides. “I think--”

“ _ Clarke _ .”

She looked up at him, eyes wide and vulnerable and he felt his mouth curve into a smile right before he pressed his lips to hers. Her hands moved from the tops of her thighs onto his hips pulling him in closer and he felt her smile against him when he tangled his hands into her hair. 

She followed him when he pulled away, but he just rested his forehead on hers, breathing her in as he caught his breath.

“I’m pretty new to this whole dating thing,” he said. “But I had a pretty good teacher so I think I could show you a good time if you let me take you out on a date.”

“Fake date?” she teased. 

“Not fake,  _ practice. _ ” He kissed her once more, softly. “And no, not practice. I think I’ve had enough practice.”

“Yeah,” Clarke smiled, pushing off the counter, dragging him by the hand. “Me too.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this fic was actually inspired by another, much much better fic, of the same theme, in the merthur fandom called 'the practice boyfriend' by giselleslash--everybody should go check it out because it is amazing and the merthur writers always bring their A game. 
> 
> anyway, comments are always appreciated and feel free to visit me on tumblr! (ofhobbitsandwomen) <3


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